


Summoning Miracles

by Leticheecopae



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Implied or Off-stage Rape/Non-con, M/M, Other, Sadstuck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-03
Updated: 2012-05-03
Packaged: 2017-11-04 18:26:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/396859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leticheecopae/pseuds/Leticheecopae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gamzee is searching for Tavros, but finds a look alike instead. Summoner's point of view. Rated mostly for Gamzee's bad language. Also, may be considered a slight AU with the Summoner and Highblood having known eachother.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Summoning Miracles

“Tav-bro?” The words startle you out of your blank thoughts. Far away the fires of war wage on, though you know in the living world they had to have gone out years ago, maybe even centuries. You don’t know anymore. Time isn’t something to be kept track of in the dream bubbles. But that voice was not a part of this memory and confusion crosses your face. Turning you look for the source, and it isn’t hard to find. When you spot him you jerk.

For a moment you believe the Grand Highblood has found his way to your bubble, but after the initial jerk you know it’s not so. This one it too thin, too lanky, to be such a beast, and you relax. Not only that, but there is color in his eyes, and it is easy to put two and two together. A troll, a living one, not much older than seven sweeps is looking at you wide eyed. You see three long lines across his face as he slowly comes nearer, tentative like he will scare you away.

“Tavebro? When did you all up an’ get wings?” he asks softly. He has you confused with someone else you realize. With a quick beat of your wings you are up and standing, the cliff behind you turning into a beach as water surges in from somewhere, the young trolls dream bubble merging with our own. “I’ve been looking for you for so long. Look how big you’ve gotten bro. I never thought you’d be all taller than me ‘an shit. Motherfuckin miracle,” and the last words make you wince. Those were words you never thought you would hear again.

“I’m afraid I don’t know who you’re talking about,” you say casually, keeping your ground even though waves are now lapping against your bare feet. No need for shoes in the afterlife. That stops the young one who is staring hard at you, looking you over with eyes that are slowly clearing and darkening into something you have seen before. Maybe this one is more like the Highblood than you thought.

“You’re not Tavros,” he spits out and the sudden change from wonder to hatred has you raising your brow, the lines on his face darkening. “You don’t even have the right motherfuckin hair. Just some fucked up piece of shit imitation,” The words make heat rise in you as you look down at this troll. Another few sweeps and he would be going off planet, destroying worlds and species, either that or staying and suppressing the rest of your kind.

With quick measured strides you step towards him. He doesn’t move, just glares at you, challenging you, just like _he_ did before you died. Your hand is out and around his throat in a moment, lifting him half a foot so you can look right in those eyes. He would hit his last growth spurt soon, and when he did he would be an absolute monster that would tower over you, but now he is still young and soft. His hands scramble against your wrist and brown wells up, but you don’t let go. Pain means little in here, is welcome really, it’s nice when you can feel something.

“You will address me as Summoner young one. You will give me the respect you would give this ‘Tavbro’ if not more,” and though there is still defiance in his eyes he nods at you, realizing that you can kill him, even if it wouldn’t be a real death. You drop him in a heap where he heaves in air, staring at your feet. “Now leave me be, this is not your place,” you are being much more civil with him than you need to be, but unlike many of the others you never found amusement in harming the younger trolls. Turning to leave you are startled to feel the hand on your ankle.

“Wait,” he wheezes. You glare at him and try to shake him from your body. “Please,” now there was a word to here from an purple blood. You stop and set your foot back down, looking at him. “I’m sorry bro, my think pan it, it don’t work to clearly anymore,” and you watch the troll shake his head hard. “But, have you seen him? My miracle brother? I know he’s in here somewhere, wandrin’ around. I just can’t find him. It’s been over a sweep, I thought you…” he trails off and shakes his head again before looking up at you. “Have you seen him?” and the look on his face is pained, the scars are fading out before your eyes, and he looks so lost.

“No,” you say quietly, “I have not.”

Bright purple stands out against the pale paint on his face as he surges to his feet. His claws are spread and he is growling.

“Then what use are you!” he screams out and claws at you, a forceful movement that is uncoordinated and easily caught. You snap his wrist with a simple movement and he screams in your grip. He tries to tear your hand from his, push it away, and all the time drawing blood. You care little and listen while he curses you, tells you to give him his Tavros, that he is his and no one else’s. It makes your stomach sick, because it sounds like someone else you knew a long time ago who wore white face paint and felt nothing but black for you.

The smaller troll bites and tears, twisting this way and that, and finally he just slumps, your arm the only thing holding him up as he pants. The pants slowly turn into sniffles and the sniffles become small hiccups. What is so wrong with this grub that is so close to being an adult, so close to being a killer of your people? You lower him slowly, coming down on your knee’s as you do it, and as you reach out to brush shaggy hair from his face he is lunging for you, though not to attack. 

The embrace is strange and awkward, his claws digging into your sides as he sobs. Patting gently you whisper soft things to him; that it is alright, that he will be okay. He just shakes his head, says he will never be okay again, that they are all dead and Tavros is gone. He just wants to see Tavros, one more time. Just wants to find him, apologize for not being there when he should have been. When his hiccupping cries finally turn to nothing but shaking breaths and your chest is painted in purple you pull back, but your hands stay on his shoulders to steady him.

“Can you help me find him?” he asks you, big eyes looking up, and the scars are gone. There is nothing on his face but smeared paint and tears.

“I’m not sure,” you answer truthfully. It’s been hard enough finding anyone you knew, though you still search for the one who started your crusade. “I don’t know if I can,” and there is a flash of scar but the troll is shaking his head frantically. When he is done he is panting a little, but the scar is nowhere to be seen.

“Then, if you see him, could you give him a message for me?” and the request is reasonable enough. 

“Of course,” and you rub small circles into his shoulders as a few more tears well out from behind his eyes. 

“Tell him,” he takes a deep breath and begins again, “Tell him I miss him. That his bro Gamzee is all up and looking for him,” He says and wipes his nose on his forearm. “Tell him that I’m going to find him some day, and we can start some sick fires again, can sit around and stare at the stares and count all those mutherfuckin miracles,” the young troll named Gamzee says, voice wavering as he looks away, past you and out to the sea that has collided with your world. “Tell him I have something important to talk a about, a really important feelings jam. I’ve got a question only his think pan can answer, and I need it answered so my think pan can all up and finally chill,” and the look of pity on his face makes your vascular pump tighten a bit. “Can you do that for me bro?” And he’s looking at you with those big eyes sunken deep in so much makeup and the barest of lines over his nose.

“I can do that,” you confirm, and already the lines are coming back, but he is fading. 

“You’re a motherfuckin miracle you know that,” he says, voice really nothing more than air. “Just like him. A motherfuckin miracle,” and then he is gone, back to the waking world. The sea drains away and the fire pokes out from the receding waves as if it is nothing. 

***

Days later, though they could be centuries or seconds, it matters little to you. Another bubble floats against yours. You are on your cliff, staring out at the fire when you hear the laughter, high and clear. It is a sound you can’t even remember in your own bubble, and it snaps your attention away from the far away flames. There, in the field on your cliff, is a young troll chasing a fairybull lusus, laughing happily as he tries to catch it. He can’t be much older than six sweeps, his eyes are blank, and you feel like you might be looking at a memory he looks so similar. But you know it’s not because his hair is all wrong, the wings are missing, and you were never that care free at six sweeps. You had already been subjected to too much from the Subjuggulator that was determined to make you his Kismesis, and wondering how to protect yourself from those above you. This is not you. This is who Gamzee was looking for.

“Tavros,” you call out and the troll stops, turning to your voice as you stride forwards, his blank eyes wide.

“Uh… Who, uh, are you?” he asks sheepishly.

“I am the Summoner,” you say and feel your face turn up at the corners, the memory of a smile coming to you as this youngling looks at your wings in wonder. “And I have a message for you.”

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are always highly welcome!


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